


Warm Reception

by grey2510



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Dean and Cas get married, Dean and Crowley actually talk, Djinn queen from 13x16, Donnie's bar from 11x17, Everyone else is there in the background - Freeform, Finale What Finale, Gen, M/M, Past Crowley (Supernatural)/Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Sort Of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: Crowley is back from the Empty after the defeat of Chuck, human and a bit unsure of what to do with his second chance at a life—and he definitely doesn't know what he's doing at a bloodywedding receptionfor Squirrel and Feathers. It isn't until Dean slides on to the barstool next to him that he starts to understand.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Crowley (Supernatural) & Dean Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	Warm Reception

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThayerKerbasy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThayerKerbasy/gifts).



> This one goes out to Thayer, who has patiently dealt with all of our pain over the finale despite harboring his own grief ever since 12x23 and how the show tanked Crowley's character that season. I know this doesn't fix everything, but I hope it helps a bit. 🖤

Crowley sips at what passes for a cocktail at this establishment. It's not the worst he's ever had and it's certainly better than he was expecting for a place that is primarily lit by neon beer signs and has peanut shells on the floor. The music is obnoxiously loud—surprising exactly no one, it's been a long run of wailing guitars and stadium-ready vocals that have made Cas Junior (the always human one who looks like she's taken Dean Winchester as her personal lifestyle guru for some reason, not the recently human and formerly God 2.0 one) roll her eyes and complain that there _is_ , in fact, music from the 21st century that doesn't totally suck, but Crowley caught her singing along to AC/DC a moment ago before reeling her girlfriend in for a kiss.

He's not entirely sure why he's here, if he's being honest. His mother is off making eyes at Sam while also becoming what seems to be fast friends with his girlfriend. Crowley smirks, wishing Moose all the luck with that combination, if Eileen seems half as competent and no-nonsense as she'd come across when they'd been introduced. Crowley and Rowena had exchanged brief, well, he isn't sure _pleasantries_ is the right word, but Rowena'd seemed genuinely relieved that Crowley had escaped from the Empty, albeit human now, and Crowley found he didn't have it in him to care anymore what happened in their past. He doubts they'll ever have a true relationship but they can at least be cordial.

His reception from Jody Mills had been slightly frostier, just a curt head nod that managed to convey _I haven't forgotten but I'm not making an issue of it either_ , but he can hardly blame her. Then again, who in this room hasn't he tried to kill at one point or another? It hadn't been personal, not really, just business.

He finds that excuse doesn't settle was well as it used to. Human feelings. Bloody wretched inconvenience.

He's especially not sure why he's here given that the occasion for the celebration is the marriage of two people with whom his relationships are complicated at best. He'd been rather surprised this kind of celebration was taking place at all, though he hadn't been surprised at the style of invitation he'd received: a text from Dean that just said "Hey me and Cas got hitched… Donnie's bar 7pm Saturday", along with the address to the aforementioned bar, as though there were many other options in the general Lebanon, Kansas area.

Crowley had arrived to find the festivities already in swing. There was no ceremony; this was apparently just a reception, but Crowley still can't wrap his head around the idea of Squirrel and Feathers (though Crowley might need a new nickname for the erstwhile angel) walking down an aisle or even bothering to go to a JP to sign some paperwork of dubious legality. But, a bar is a bar, and so Crowley had done the only sensible thing, which is to begin imbibing copious amounts of alcohol.

Without preamble, Dean plops down onto the stool beside Crowley. "What're you drinking?" He leans a little closer to peer at the drink, scoffs, and flags down the bartender. "Donnie, get us the good stuff." Dean turns back to Crowley with a grin as Donnie reaches under the bar and pulls out a bottle of Glencraig. "Made sure I put aside a bottle for ya."

"That's…" Crowley falters, but then manages a "Thank you," and tries not to grimace at the nicety.

Dean claps him on the back. "No problem. Glad you made it. Cheers."

They toast with their tumblers and Crowley takes a second to enjoy the flavours, so much richer now that he's human. Demon palates gave everything a bit of an ashy aftertaste. They could still taste everything—traditionally speaking, what was the point of being a demon if not to be violent and hedonistic—but it was never quite _right_ and always left you yearning for what once was.

Dean is leaning backwards against the bar, watching Cas show off at darts with Jody and another sheriff Crowley has gleaned is named Donna, and he's got a dopey expression on his face that Crowley is all too familiar with, having been in the Winchesters' orbit for far too long. He can only wonder how Sam survived in such proximity for so many years without completely losing his marbles.

"So, Dean Winchester, the married man," he says, turning on his stool a bit to face Dean. "I must admit, I wasn't expecting it. I do hope you took pictures—I'm sad to have missed Moose blubbering."

Dean barks a laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure he would've. He wasn't there."

"Ah, you swept Castiel off his feet and eloped in Vegas? Reno? A charming bed and breakfast in Vermont?"

"Nah, nothing like that." Dean swings back around, narrowly avoiding knocking his knees against Crowley's, and leans his forearms on the bar. "Honestly," he says, conspiratorially, "this isn't really my kinda thing. Cas' neither."

Crowley raises an eyebrow. "Oh?" He signals to Donnie for a top up. "Do tell. I'm all yours."

Dean smirks at that. "You know, people thought you were gonna make a scene today. 'Cause, y'know…" He gestures awkwardly between them and somehow manages to encapsulate their summer howling at the moon while Dean sported black eyes. "And it isn't as if you 'n Cas have ever really gotten along."

"And by people, you mean Sam." Dean doesn't deny it, and Crowley just shrugs. "He doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me, which, despite those gargantuan limbs of his, is probably not as far as he'd like. I've gotten used to it."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have to," Dean says lowly. He shakes himself out of the funk, though, obviously not willing to venture down that rabbit hole today, and Crowley lets him. It's enough to know just that much. "Anyway, like I was saying, this whole shindig was really everyone else's idea and me 'n Cas decided, what the hell, we're already in this mess, might as well throw a party."

"And what mess would _that_ be?"

Dean takes a healthy swig from his glass. "Well, you know how it is—we can't solve a problem without making half a dozen more."

"It is a wonder the world is still turning," Crowley concedes.

"Yeah. So, anyway, coupla years ago, Cas goes off to Syria or whatever to find something—think it was the Tree of Life back when we were trying to open a rift—not important—and somehow in the scuffle Cas ends up married to the queen of the djinns."

Crowley has to hand it to the not-angel: he certainly does get around, and Crowley certainly doesn't blame the queen for snapping up a hot tamale like Castiel, given the chance. "And let me guess: she was less than impressed with her new hubby's marital efforts."

"Bingo." Dean shakes his head fondly. "Guess she'd been trying to track him down and I dunno, drag him to supernatural couples therapy or some shit—"

"I doubt it'd have been that civil."

"Oh it definitely wouldn't have been. Powerful creature with the ability to control people's minds and dreams allied with a freakin' angel? I don't even want to know what kind of crap she was cooking up. Anyway, I dunno if it was Chuck meddling or just the unholy amount of shit we always had piled on our plates that made it hard for her to track him down or what, but when she did, she was _pissed._ "

There's a crash that makes them both startle and whip around in that direction, but they just find Jack looking guiltily at a knocked-over table while Claire and Kaia try to act like nothing happened and everything is fine.

"Oh, he's going to be hurtin' tomorrow," Dean mumbles, amused. Crowley looks at him questioningly. "Ten bucks says Claire's teaching him the finer points of tequila shots. He might've been God for a hot second but he ain't now and he's got the alcohol tolerance of a toddler." Dean pauses. "Not that toddlers should have an alcohol tolerance. You know what I mean."

"You're a shining example of parental virtues," Crowley drawls.

"Yeah, I should probably step in, but kid's gotta learn somehow. And besides," he says, grinning, "it's my wedding or whatever. That sounds like someone else's problem."

"Speaking of…" Crowley says, prompting him to continue his story.

"Right, yeah. So, long story short, djinn queen basically kidnaps him to consummate the marriage or make it extra official to bind their power together—I think she was hoping that even as a human he'd have some direct line to Heaven or something—but she _can't_ , the magic ain't working. Come to find out that it's because he's already bonded to someone else."

Crowley blinks before it sinks in. "When he raised you from Hell."

"Yup. And then again when I used that connection so I could bust into the Empty and get him back out." Dean shrugs casually, but Crowley can see how deeply the experience affected him. "Rowena gave a whole magical mumbo-jumbo explanation for it, but bottom line, without the second half, it wouldn't've been a closed deal. Guess you can't just stake a claim on someone and call it done. They gotta reciprocate, gotta make that choice themselves."

"You know this is essentially a fairy tale," Crowley says. "Although somehow you've both ended up the damsel in distress and the knight at various points."

It isn't that long ago that Dean might've clocked him for that remark, but this Dean just smiles and nods. "We've never been very good at sticking to a story."

"No, you really never have been." He doesn't mean to sound as wistful as he does, and so he hides it with another sip of his Craig. "And the festivities?"

"Well, once Sam and Eileen found out, it was just a matter of time before the rest of 'em did—I'm still half-convinced Sammy sends out a newsletter or something. And then they all decided they needed to celebrate it, and so here we are."

Crowley offers a small smile. "And you've never turned down an excuse to party."

"Hey, as long as it was somewhere I could get a beer and not do any frou-frou crap, I'm all in." Dean looks down at his drink for a second, then back around at the bar, slowly taking in all the people that Crowley knows he considers his family, probably more than some he shares blood with.

They drink companionably for a moment, and Crowley doesn't miss the silent conversation Dean and Cas have across the room, but Cas doesn't come over. He does turn to Crowley, though, and offer a nod and a look that isn't exactly a smile but is far warmer and welcoming than some other looks he's gotten today. It's a look of understanding, and Crowley returns one of his own.

"I'm, uh, sorry," Dean says after a while, "that I didn't try to get you out. You went to the mat for us, and—"

"We weren't the love story for the ages," Crowley cuts in. He tries not to sound bitter. Whatever he and Dean were, it certainly wasn't that, and he's mostly made his peace with it. They weren't what the other wanted, not really.

"It was still a shit thing to do to...to a friend, to just leave you there."

"Yes, well," Crowley says, trying not to dwell on that one particular word, "it isn't as if I haven't done my fair share of 'shit things' to people."

Dean looks like he's about to counter that, but stops, nods, and lets it go. They could be here from now until eternity if they tried to play at guilt one-upmanship.

"So," he says at long last, "what're you going to do next? Now that you're on the human train for round two."

Crowley considers. "Haven't decided. I don't think I'll be hunting, if that's what you're asking." He was never a brawler and he has no desire to conduct the research element of an effective hunt, though he'd be more than willing to contribute what knowledge he can from the vast bits of lore he's accumulated over the centuries if anyone should ask. He still has many contacts in the various black markets of the world, though, and he thinks he might be able to do some good there—and he genuinely means _good_ , not just good for his own personal gain.

Dean nods. "Look, I know we got...we got a history and it's fucked up in all kinds of ways, but...I liked having you around. Would like having you around." He makes a small toast with his glass. "You're not a half-bad drinking buddy."

"I'm flattered." Crowley toasts back. "Well, as long as you continue to stock the good stuff and not the usual swill, I might be persuaded to join you now and again."

"Awesome." Dean drains his glass and stands up. "Anyway, I think I've got a foosball game to win."

Crowley nods, wondering if he should start to make his excuses to leave soon. "Enjoy."

Dean pulls him by the sleeve. "C'mon, you're not even going to give me a run for my money?"

Crowley looks up sharply, surprised. Dean gives him a _well, I'm waiting_ expression and, well, Crowley would hate to disappoint.

He grins. "What're the stakes?"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments appreciated!


End file.
